


come morning light

by starklystar



Series: a strong enough foundation [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Palladium Poisoning, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Sick Tony Stark, Steve is defrosted early, and tony just came home from the cave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25146382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starklystar/pseuds/starklystar
Summary: “I just didn’t want to worry you.”“Well, you worried us anyway,” Peter snaps back.Tony hopes Peter will one day forgive him. He has no excuse for his son. God, he hopes Peter grows up to be better than him. Peter already is better than Tony, but –Why is his left arm numb?-x-Or, Tony has palladium poisoning, but doesn’t tell Peter and Steve.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: a strong enough foundation [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890250
Comments: 29
Kudos: 436





	come morning light

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the privilege of loving you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24233086) by [starklystar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starklystar/pseuds/starklystar). 



> requested by @capxicles on tumblr who wanted a remix of my story but with an older peter. this took so long and i'm not sure i'm satisfied with it, but it’s been sitting too long in my drafts askfndslf the dynamic between an older peter and steve was really hard to write, but it was a fun challenge to explore them, and i hope i did them justice!  
> also this is likely to have some mistakes so my apologies in advance
> 
> set in a universe where steve was defrosted early and he retired from being captain america and he married tony and adopted peter as a baby :)

Peter is sixteen years and two months old when he notices something wrong with his dad.

It starts with the simplest words: _I’m tired_.

Which wouldn't have been a red alert, except for the fact that no matter how tired Tony was, Peter’s dad _never_ turns down a chance to watch Star Wars with him. 

If he really was tired, Tony would simply end up sleeping on the couch and Peter would spread a blanket over him, waiting for Steve to come down and gently carry Tony back to bed.

So when Tony tells Peter that he's too tired for Star Wars, Peter can't just drop it.

“Not even for fifteen minutes of Princess Leia?” he tries to wheedle.

His dad _does_ look tired. And while he wants his dad to rest, Tony’s been odd lately. 

He's been spending more and more time locked in the workshop, not letting Peter enter despite Aunt Pepper insisting that Stark Industries doesn't have any pressing projects to complete.

With all that time secluded away from the workshop, Peter misses his dad. 

Those dreadful three months when Tony had been missing in the barren deserts had been hell. And even though it's been more than six months since his dad had returned, the blow of the loss and grief Peter had felt when he thought his dad wouldn't be coming back home still stings sharp.

The Malibu house was dreadfully quiet without Tony, and even JARVIS and the bots had been deeply subdued.

Peter doesn't want to go back to those days of unbearable silence and loneliness, but his dad is pulling away, and he doesn't understand _why_ his dad would want to avoid Peter and Steve or how to stop his dad from pulling away.

"Long day tomorrow," Tony mumbles, already halfway out of the living room.

Peter resists the urge to scoff.

His dad had never been able to lie to him. 

Watching Tony walk away, Peter stands torn between annoyance that his dad was keeping secrets again and worry for what might drive his dad to keep those secrets.

The worry won out.

He knows his dad would never ever hurt him, and whatever reasons could possible drive his dad to hide away for so long like this – the possibilities gnawed at Peter, each more horrible than the last.

Eventually, he gives in, unable to bear the cold pit of anxiety burrowing in his stomach.

"JARVIS?" Peter calls, "could you ask Pops to come home sooner?"

"Of course, young sir."

* * *

Tony sighs, leaning against the locked bathroom door, refusing to let his tears prick at his eyes.

He doesn’t cry often, but it’s been another stressful day filled with another series of failures. He’s supposed to be a genius, _dammit_ , why couldn’t he just figure the palladium problem out?

And Peter had sounded so disappointed that Tony couldn’t watch Star Wars with him.

But Tony was feeling far too nauseous, and as bad a Dad as Tony was for turning down a movie night with his son, he would be an even worse dad if he died on his son.

It’s what Tony hates most about this thing.

He needs the rest so he can get back to the lab tomorrow, try a new permutation to hopefully replace the goddamned palladium. 

Giving up isn’t an option because he has to stay alive for Peter and Steve. After all, he still feels the crushing cold that had come when Howard and Maria had died, and Tony refuses to let his family go through any more pain because of him.

And yet, lying to his family, pulling away from them just to keep the palladium a secret is chipping away at him slowly. Tony hasn’t let Steve undress him for three days now, and he desperately misses Steve’s touches, almost as much as he misses simply _holding_ his son.

But if he let Steve or Peter look too closely, they would notice the faint black lines making its fatal journey up Tony’s throat, a necklace of death as penance for Tony’s sins.

The thought claws at him, twisting sharper than the shrapnel in his heart – his family shouldn’t bear the burden of his failures.

He remembers what it had been like six months ago when he’d come home from his captivity. 

How Peter hadn’t been able to sleep unless Tony was there with him. How tightly Peter had held onto him, the way his entire body had trembled with the force of his grief, worry, relief.

“ _They told us you died_ ,” Peter had said, voice muffled where his head was pressed against Tony’s chest, the reactor’s casing digging into his cheek, “ _uncle Rhodey wouldn’t believe them, but then the weeks went by and he didn’t find you._ ”

Tony can’t do that again to his son, especially not this soon.

Peter had just stopped looking at Tony like he was seeing a ghost, had finally started believing that his dad really was back.

And if Tony can’t do that to Peter, he certainly can’t do that to _Steve_.

He doesn’t want his death to be what breaks his family. 

JARVIS had shown him some footage of what Steve and Peter had gone through while Tony had been captive – all the sleepless nights, how hard it had been for Steve to coax Peter into eating, – and Tony never wanted to do that to them again.

Tony _is_ grateful, truly, for being allowed the chance to see his family again after the cave.

Despite all that, he’s still selfish, because he wants more than this.

He wants more than the one month his doctors tell him he has left. He wants one more day, one more year, one more lifetime with his husband and his son.

There were loves worth dying for, and loves even deeper that were worth living for. 

And yet, Tony knows that if he were to tell Peter and Steve the truth, they would spend this last month of Tony's life already mourning him. 

Was it so bad that Tony wanted to keep them in blissful ignorance? Was it so bad that he wanted to spare his husband and child the burden of knowing that he was dying? Tony could worry about himself enough, and even if it hurt for Tony to keep his distance away from the two people he loved most in the world, well.

He would gladly pay any price to keep Steve and Peter happy.

* * *

“Is something wrong with Dad?”

Peter tries his best to keep his nervous fiddling clamped down. He drums his fingers against his knee instead, sinking further into the softness of the sofa. Beside him, his Pops is also slumped on the sofa, one arm winding around behind Peter's back to cradle his shoulder. 

The weight of the hand on is comforting and familiar, and Peter leans into it, grateful for its steadying presence.

“Nothing’s wrong, Pete.”

Shaking his head, Peter shifts around to properly face his Pops.

“You don’t have to lie to me. I’m basically an adult.”

His Pops sighs, rubbing the back of his hand wearily over his eyes. Peter feels a swell of guilt at adding to his exhaustion.

“I wish I could tell you, too, but your dad asked me for some space.”

That was more truthful, but it sent sharp spikes of panic running through Peter. He knew how much Tony adored Steve. His parents rarely went a day without touching each other, and it was more than alarming to hear that Tony was pushing Steve away.

“Dad’s not – he still loves us, right?”

The question slips out of him without Peter meaning it to.

His parents love him. Logically, Peter knows that. No matter that Peter was adopted, they made sure to tell and _show_ him how much they cared for him. Steve himself had put down his mantle of Captain America for Peter’s sake, and despite Tony threatening to sell all his toys, Tony never failed to give Peter exactly what he needed, whether it was a scolding or a hug.

Until today.

It was more than disconcerting to see his dad dismiss him like that, and _yes_ , Peter understands Tony was tired and it sounds whiny to be so hung up over something so small.

“Oh, Peter,” his Pops breathes out, gathering him into his strong, safe arms and pulling him into a tight hug, “your dad will always love you. Never doubt that.”

“I’m just worried,” Peter admits. _I wish things could go back to before dad went missing_ , he nearly adds, but he doesn’t want to hurt his Pops more.

“Let me do the worrying,” Steve sternly tells him, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “Now, I know you have a school day tomorrow, but how about you try tell me again why you like the Death Star so much?”

“Are you willingly asking to watch Star Wars with me?”

Steve lets go of the hug, winking at Peter. “I might need your help to build a Death Star against SHIELD.”

Any other day, Peter would tease his Pops about violence not being the way out and those PSA videos that schools still play even after Steve retired.

Today, though, he only smiles back at his Pops, feeling infinitely grateful for his presence. They’ve gotten through worse together, and whatever was wrong with Tony, Peter trusted Steve to fix it.

“Thank you.”

“I love you, too,” his Pops reminds him as JARVIS brings up the opening sequence of _Empire Strikes Back_ , and then, “I’ll love you even more when we finish building that Death Star.”

Peter laughs, and he lets its warmth settle some of his worries.

* * *

The red letters flash angrily up at Tony as he sucks the drop of blood off his thumb. 10 percent. It was only 4 percent last week, and assuming a linear trend, the maths isn’t good. Assuming an exponential trend, which the doctors believe more likely, Tony has less than a month.

Leaning heavily against the sink, he glances warily at the closed door, making sure it’s locked before he lifts the bottom of his shirt up, past the glow of the reactor. Harsh black lines creep out around the reactor’s casing, reaching further than they did yesterday, and, not for the first time, Tony wishes he was smarter, better.

If he was as smart as people made him out to be, surely he would have solved the palladium problem by now?

He glares angrily at the open powder box. Concealing the lines on his neck has been getting harder lately, the lines growing darker and crawling higher up.

“Tony? Are you in there?”

Swallowing hard, Tony quickly lets go of his shirt, closing the powder box and shoving the medical scanner deep in his pocket before he tells JARVIS to unlock the door.

A few seconds later, Steve’s head pokes in, a small smile on his lips. “There you are.”

A smile forms on Tony’s lips too, a reflex around Steve, but he knows it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You’re home late,” Tony observes, eyes scanning his husband for any sign of injury. It’s been years since Steve retired to become a commander at SHIELD, but Tony still hasn’t dropped the habit of worrying over possible injuries whenever Steve breaks his usual schedule.

“Peter caught me on the couch,” Steve shrugs apologetically, “made me watch that space movie with him.”

“You know very well the name of the movie, Steven,” Tony chides, deflecting Steve’s unspoken question, feeling the guilt churn heavily in his heart.

It seemed, however, that Steve wasn’t ready to let it go easily. Tony supposed it was his own fault for being suspiciously distant – well, to anyone else, it wouldn’t have been suspicious, but to Steve, who knew Tony better than Tony knew himself, the sudden long hours must have been quite suspicious.

“Peter’s worried about you,” Steve starts, “I know you asked for space, but Tony, you _would_ tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

 _God_ , Tony is a horrible, _horrible_ person. He’s lying to his son, he’s lying to his husband.

Tony wishes he was a braver man, wishes he could find the strength to tell his family the truth, to break their hearts again. How does he say it, though?

_Steve, I’m going to die in less than a month and nothing I’ve tried can stop it, and you certainly can’t stop it either, so can we run away to Venice and forget about it?_

The words sound stupid, and Tony isn’t ready to give up trying. He can solve it, he _has to_. And in the meantime, well.

“I’m just tired, Steve. Had to fix the reactor today,” Tony replies, unable to entirely lie to his husband.

Something flickers in Steve’s eyes – worry, doubt, fondness and sorrow – before he reaches out to take one of Tony’s hands in his, tugging him away from the sink and into their bedroom.

“Come to bed, then,” Steve says, “rest.”

There’s a thousand things Tony wants to say to Steve. _I’m sorry_. _Don’t leave me_. _I don’t want to go._ But they stick to his throat, heavy and bitter.

“I love you,” Tony forces himself to say instead, too truthful and too little.

Those three words couldn’t possibly describe everything Tony feels for Steve, and the desperation with which Tony wants to hold onto everything Steve has given him.

And yet, Steve pulls Tony closer anyway, walking backwards to inch them slowly out of the bathroom. Too kindly and too softly, he murmurs back, “I love you, too, darling.”

Tony has always wondered what it would take to get Steve to stop loving him. The late nights tinkering in the lab, the news scandals, the old photographs, their wildfire fights – it’s the height of irony that _now_ Tony believes wholly in the truth of Steve’s affection for him, but he doesn’t get to keep him.

His mind wanders back to the cave, Yinsen asking him if he had anything waiting for him back home. He had wanted to tell him about Steve and their two-year-old and he had ached with the thought of Steve staying up alone to calm Peter down, then waking up early to get their sulking boy into clothes for school. He had ached at the thought of Steve puttering about alone, waiting for Peter to come home from school, chaffing at not being able to search for Tony himself.

It’s nothing to the ache he feels now.

Tony wants to tell Steve to love someone else, to not break his heart over a dying man, but he knows the stubborn loyalty of the man he married. He knows Steve will never let go of him, and as much as the thought used to fill Tony with the brightest warmth, it now fills him with dread. Steve _has_ to live on, not just for Peter. There is a world, a universe out there for Steve to see, to feel, to love beyond Tony.

When Steve presses a quick kiss on Tony’s lips, it tastes like honey and ash all at once.

* * *

Tony strolls into the kitchen on a Sunday, trying his best to paste his brightest smile on his face.

His scanner had shown a 71% blood toxicity level, the palladium working through his body faster than any of the doctors had anticipated. There’s nothing else they can do except promise something for the pain, but Tony’s refused that.

He will bear the headaches and nausea and vomiting to the very end if it means he won’t be stuck in a hospital bed when he could be spending the day with his family.

He promises himself he’ll tell them today.

It’s time. As much as Tony didn’t want to break their hearts, Steve and Peter deserved to hear the truth from him. They didn’t deserve to have Tony collapsing on them suddenly. And Tony _will_ tell them today, he repeats the promise to himself.

Today, after one last family outing together.

He doesn’t particularly care where they went. Even if it was only them piled up on the couch laughing as they watched some bland movie from the ‘60s that Steve loved so much, it didn’t matter.

Tony just wants to see their happiness one more time, a happiness untarnished by the knowledge that Tony is dying before their very eyes. A happiness free from desperation and grief.

But when he walks in the kitchen, there’s only Peter there, Steve nowhere to be seen. His son is sipping at a glass of orange juice, scrolling idly at his phone.

“Hey, kid,” Tony slides into the chair opposite him, smiling ruefully at the way Peter’s bitten the end of his straw. A habit he picked up from Tony.

Peter squints at him, suspicious. He puts his phone down on the table.

“You’re cheerful today, Dad.”

Tony winces at the accusation. He knows that his lying about the truth had taken a toll on them all, and it’s the reason why he’s decided to end the lies today. Except he’s selfish. He wants a few more hours of them not worrying endlessly, futilely about him.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” Tony explains, quickly. Then, more truthfully, he admits, “I’ve missed you.”

“You know you can talk to us, right?”

Again, Tony winces. Beneath the sincerity of his son’s question, there’s pain. Tony inadvertently hurt his family by trying to protect them from a greater pain.

Really, he can never do anything right, not when it comes to keeping those he loves safe.

“I know. I just didn’t want to worry you.”

“Well, you worried us anyway,” Peter snaps back.

Tony hopes Peter will one day forgive him. He has no excuse for his son. _God_ , he hopes Peter grows up to be better than him. Peter already _is_ better than Tony, but –

Why is his left arm numb?

Stumbling, Tony blindly reaches out for the kitchen table, trying to orient himself.

“Dad?” Peter’s voice comes from far away.

Does he know how proud Tony is of him? He should know. Tony loves him so much too. But when he tries to say it, he finds himself suddenly so tired.

The pain in his chest flares, and _no. No, no, no_ , this is too soon. Tony still had weeks left. He can’t give in like this, can’t have his own son _watch_ him die.

He can’t do that to Peter.

Tony forces himself to stand, leaning heavily on the table to brace himself. His vision is swimming, and Peter’s voice is growing louder, and Tony can’t hear him, and where’s Steve? He needs – Tony needs to tell Steve to that he loves him, that Steve has to take care of Peter for him.

Steve needs to supervise Peter’s lab time now. Does he know all of the safety protocols? And Peter needs to know how to wake Steve up from a nightmare.

Tony can’t go yet.

There’s still too much for him to do, and yet –

“Dad, I’m calling Pops.”

 _Good_ , Tony thinks. Steve is good.

Tony loves them both so much.

Steve will know what to do.

“Dad?”

Black spots dance in Tony’s vision, and –

_No, no, no._

_Steve._

Tony has to hold on.

He needs to tell them. He _promised._

But he slips away, powerless.

* * *

Peter bounces his leg agitatedly, the bright lights of the hospital waiting room glaring harshly into his eyes.

Pops had rushed into the kitchen as soon as JARVIS had sounded the emergency alarm, and Peter leans into his strong frame, his hands still trembling from having to carry the weight of Tony’s unmoving body.

But as much as Steve tried to stay strong for him, Peter could see easily the way Steve was taking short, measured breaths, as if he too was trying his best to not spiral into a panic. Peter feels another wave of gratefulness for his presence.

“Dad is going to be fine,” Peter tries to lend some comfort his Pops. 

“Yeah,” Steve sends him a shaky smile, “he has you to get back to.”

“And you, too, Pops,” Peter gently reminds, but the thought brings back the horrible memory of those hazy moments, the panic rising back up. “Dad was – he called your name. Before he – ”

“Hush,” Steve soothes, taking both of Peter’s hands in his and squeezing them gently. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I should have been there. But you were so brave, and none of it was your fault.”

“I could have helped him if he had told me. Why didn’t he?”

When JARVIS had admitted Tony’s palladium problem, Peter had felt betrayed and hurt. Peter _could_ help. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. 

Now, hours later, Tony was still in critical condition and Peter had combed through his research to find anything that might have been missed. Dishearteningly, Tony _had_ tried every possible permutation, but Peter was nothing if not stubborn.

He had to prove his dad wrong. Not just because he was hurt by Tony not trusting him, but also because failure would mean Tony would die.

And there was no world in which Peter would accept that outcome.

He had lived for three months thinking his dad was gone. He refused to go back to that again, his mind and heart nauseous at even the thought of it.

Eventually, Steve had coaxed him to take a break. In all honesty, Peter wouldn’t have been able to focus for much longer, his mind determined to go off on wild tangents worrying about his dad lying on a surgery table.

“If your dad could have stopped either of us from worrying, he would have,” Steve points out, reasonable as ever.

Peter considers that for a moment, his anger and hurt still simmering.

“How can you stay so calm?” he finds himself asking. “Dad lied to you, too.”

His Pops smiles again. It’s a tired smile, his eyes far away. During times like these, Peter is reminded that Steve had fought wars and won them, had gone into battle and lost.

“I _am_ upset. But Tony wouldn’t be Tony if he didn’t try to protect everyone he loves, sometimes in the most misguided way,” Steve explains, voice full of so much fondness that something in Peter aches. “I guess I’ll just have to teach him again that he’s never been alone.”

The words weigh heavy, and as Peter rolls them around in his mind, he starts to understand a little.

“We’ll teach Dad together.”

Steve’s smile turns softer, lighter. “You’re a good kid, you know that? The best that we could ever hope for.”

“Yeah?” Peter feels himself smiling back. “Even if I told you who painted spiders all over your bike?”

Shaking his head, Steve bumps Peter’s shoulder with his. “Your dad screams when he finds a spider. I know exactly who drew them.”

Peter thinks _he_ couldn’t have possibly hoped for better parents. Neither Tony nor Steve were perfect, but they were Peter’s. 

He thinks of how his dad had carried him in his arms on his first day of school, or the snippets of Italian lullabies mixed with piano notes that Peter still hums, or when his dad had come home, bruised and battered and with a hole in his chest, and how tightly Tony had held Peter, whispering words of apology for something that would never be his fault.

"Spiders are just misunderstood creatures," Peter replies.

Steve squeezes his hand again.

"Yeah. Just misunderstood."

* * *

“I’m not talking with you for a month,” Peter says when Tony wakes up.

Tony hides the sting he feels that he’d managed to anger his son that badly. Still, it wasn't outside Peter's rights to be upset by Tony's lies, so he swallows back the hurt and nods. “Fair enough.”

Peter makes an aborted move, somewhere halfway between wanting to reach out and fearful that all of this was only a dream, that his dad hadn't really woken up. 

“You don't get to die on me,” Peter orders, voice tight and faltering at the end.

 _Oh_ , Tony chokes back the guilt, holding out his hand.

“Come here,” Tony pleads, gratified when Peter takes it, and he pulls his son into a hug. His chest throbs from whatever the doctors had done to him, but he pays it no mind. “I’m sorry.” _I was going to tell you_ , he nearly says, but excuses wouldn’t help. “I’ll make it up to you. Both of you.”

Steve, who had been standing behind Peter, walks around to the other side of the bed, taking Tony’s other hand.

“You can make it up to us by _not_ dying,” he dryly says.

“Steve,” Tony’s voice breaks, “there’s none. I tried – ”

“I did some thinking,” Peter cuts in, “talked with JARVIS. You tried every possible permutation of every _known_ element. Why not make a new element instead?”

Tony blinks at him. Silently, his mind builds and discards possibilities, urged on by the stubborn determination carved in Peter’s eyes. _It isn’t that easy_ , Tony wants to argue. Surely, the answer couldn’t have been so simple all along?

But his mind snags on a thought, a passing memory, and –

“Actually, that’s possible.”

Peter grins, wide and triumphant. “You know, Dad, for a genius, you can be a little helpless.”

“I’m letting that slide just this once,” Tony smiles back at his son before he turns to Steve. “Do you have my phone? I can try – ”

Steve shushes his husband with a very effective kiss on the lips. They can get to the science when they get home. Peter mutters what sounds like a half-hearted ‘ _gross_ ’. But Steve misses his husband far too much to be bothered by it, and sinking into the warmth of the touch that he’s craved for these past weeks, he lets some of his anger melt away into relief.

“Remember when you promised me we’d do this together?” Steve asks, pulling back.

There’s an uncertainty in Tony’s words when he answers with a contrite, “yes.”

Steve pushes on, needing his husband to understand, to let him in. “When you can’t find a solution, let us be there to help, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Tony says again, eyes darting between his husband and his son. “I know it’s my fault, but I really, _really_ miss you. I didn’t want to lose you, I didn’t want to make you worry, I don’t – ”

“Hey, _hey_ , sweetheart, it’s okay,” Steve leans even further forward to brush the tear off Tony’s cheek. The nickname works a charm to calm him down. “you have us, Tony. Always.”

Tony lets the words sink in. “I’ll try my best not to die. I can’t promise anything.”

“You _could_ promise not to keep secrets like this again,” Peter chimes in.

Properly chastised, Tony nods again. “Cross my heart, and hope to – ”

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that,” Steve warns. “I love you, but you’re sleeping on the couch if you dare.”

“I _am_ sorry. Really. I mean it,” Tony feels the need to apologise again. He never wanted it to wind up like this, with Peter’s puffy eyes and Steve’s fearful ones.

When Steve taking his hand and presses a kiss across the back of his palm, it feels like forgiveness.

And when Steve asks, “promise me we’ll do this together?” it feels like home.

Tony swallows hard. He looks at Peter, their son who they raised through sleepless nights and restless days – and proof that what they did together would turn out wonderful and better than either of them could have done alone.

“Together,” Tony agrees.

* * *

When they get home from the hospital, Steve sets his foot down. He locks Tony out of the lab and marches him to the dining table.

Steve cooks a plain soup – his mother’s recipe – that helps ease the lingering nausea. The warmth of the soup pools inside him, a welcome change from the nasty hospital food they’d had for lunch.

Peter makes a face when Steve reaches out to wipe some soup off the corner of Tony’s lips, and Steve teases their son about the girl at school. For a moment, everything feels normal, feels perfect.

For a moment, Tony isn’t dying.

He’s just a husband, a father enjoying dinner with his family.

And as Tony watches his son laugh and his husband smile, he carves the sunlight of their happiness into the bedrock of his heart, holding on tight to the memory, praying that he’ll get more chances to have dinner with them another time. Another hundred more times.

* * *

“Hey,” Tony moves to sit on Peter’s bed. Peter shifts to make space for him. “Whatever happens tomorrow, whether the element works or not, promise me this, will you?”

“It will work, Dad.”

Tony smiles. Peter’s faith in him had always been overwhelming, but now it serves as a balm. He almost believes his son, because Tony would go to the ends of the universe to give Peter whatever he wanted.

“Even if it works,” Tony relents, unable to break Peter’s hopes, “I need you to remember that I will always be incredibly proud of you. I couldn’t have asked for a kinder, more wonderful and brilliant son.”

“Dad, I – ”

“Also you need to promise me that you’ll _never_ give DUM-E a fire extinguisher,” Tony prods Peter’s shoulder for emphasis. “No matter how sad he looks, you know better than that, Peter Benjamin Stark.”

Peter lets out a wet laugh, sniffling his nose and blinking quickly to push back against the wave of emotions threatening to crash over him. “Can’t DUM-E get one free pass?”

“Wonderful,” Tony pretends to sigh, “my bots have turned my son against me.”

Inching closer to Tony, Peter leans his head on Tony’s shoulder.

Before Tony had been held captive, Peter had entered that stage where he hated being coddled and cuddled by his parents. While Tony had been glad to return to hugging his son freely, it was always tinged with a painful reminder of how deeply Stane’s betrayal had hurt Tony’s family.

“They’re technically my older brothers,” Peter points out.

“Yeah? Pretty sure your Pops raised a son who would do the right thing. And the right thing is to _not_ give a deranged bot a tool of destruction.”

“Well, my dad raised a son who knew the value of giving.”

“You’ve been talking with your Pops again,” Tony huffs, trying his best not to preen.

Peter’s opinion mattered the most to Tony. As much as he knew Peter dreaded disappointing him, Tony dreaded disappointing Peter more.

To know that Peter still held Tony in high regard despite the disaster that last few weeks had been, it soothed the storms in Tony’s heart.

“On the topic of your Pops,” Tony continues, “remember to keep him away from the toaster. The poor baby is still traumatised from the last time he burned bread.”

 _If this doesn’t work_ , Tony wants to say, _please take care of your Pops for me_.

Because if everything went to shit and the element didn’t work, the only person who could help keep Steve’s grief at bay would be Peter. But Tony can’t possibly put that burden on his son.

 _God_ , he hopes the new element works.

“I don’t want to eat burned bread either,” Peter dryly points out.

“Smart,” he grins at his son, who smiles back.

“I got that from you.”

Tony wraps an arm around him. “When you take over the world, don’t forget your old man.”

Peter gasps, jostling them both. “Are you calling yourself _old?_ ”

“I obviously meant Steve, who is older than sliced bread.”

“Sure, Dad,” Peter laughs, happy and free.

And for a moment, they sit side by side, cherishing the chance to have each other for another second, another moment more.

* * *

“A little to the right,” Tony orders briskly, nodding as Steve faithfully obeys, shifting the metal tubes around. “Peter, could you get me our favorite frisbee?”

“What are you going to do with my shield?” Steve freezes.

“Relax, dear,” Tony blows him a kiss, “I need it to make this part level.”

The workshop around them doesn’t look like much of a workshop anymore. The walls have been torn down, part of the ceiling has its wiring exposed, and the makeshift particle collider Steve is helping arrange is at the center of it all.

Peter hands him the large shield, and Tony frowns at how easily his son holds it up. He thinks of the unfinished prototype to the Iron Man armor, and of Steve’s uniform in the bottom drawer of their closet. The natural grace that Peter had as he held the shield up scared Tony because Peter deserves a happier, easier life than a hero’s life.

But now isn’t the time worrying about that, and Tony shoves that thought away for another time.

“Perfect,” he grins as he shoves the shield underneath the metal. “Now, we’re down to an eight six percent chance that we’ll fail.”

“It will work,” Peter promises with the same conviction he had last night.

“You’ve made it through worse odds, Tony,” Steve adds, walking over to take two safety goggles, one for himself and one for Peter.

Tony makes a non-committal sound. He _has_ been through worse odds, but the price he paid was to himself. Now, Peter and Steve’s happiness lied in the balance. And yet, now that he wasn’t alone anymore, he finds strength in their faith in him.

 _Together,_ Steve voice echoes in his head, and Tony grasps that hope tightly

“Of course it’s gonna work,” Tony nods. He finds that he believes it better. “Now let’s blow some things up.”

* * *

“The element should serve as a viable replacement to the palladium core.”

* * *

“So,” Tony asks as he serves some risotto on Peter’s plate during dinner, “what are we naming the new element?”

His new reactor shines brilliantly beneath his shirt, its blue light a beacon of hope. The black lines on his neck and chest linger, but already, they’ve lost some of their color.

“What do you think about – ”

“No,” Tony fixes a stern glare at Peter, “we are _not_ naming your

“Peterium doesn’t sound too bad,” Steve chimes in across the table.

“That’s embarrassing. Why not Badassium?” Peter asks. “Cause that particle accelerator was badass.”

Steve laughs. “ _Language_ , young man.”

“Peterium sounds good. It’ll be easy to remember it when you study about it in class,” Tony teases, joining Steve’s laugh as Peter groans.

“That’s right, Dad. Stop inventing things and adding to my science homework.”

“Technically,” Tony points out easily, “it was _your_ idea.”

Peter rolls his eyes, poking his dad in the ribs with his elbows, and Tony yelps, threatening him with a fork. Steve offers them both a salad, which they refuse at the same time.

Steve pretends to frown. “Vegetables are healthy.”

Tony kicks his leg from under the table, sticking his tongue out at Steve and making Peter snort.

It feels right again, this small family of theirs. Peter feels _home_ , sitting here beside his parents. Steve leans across the table to kiss Tony, and for once, Peter doesn’t make a face. He just takes advantage of his dad’s distraction to slip a few lettuces onto his plate.

“Traitor,” Tony pretends to hiss. “ _You_ should eat your greens if I have to eat mine.”

Peter raises a brow at him. “I saved your life, Dad. I should get a free pass.”

When his dad smiles at him, something glows bright in his eyes, warmth mingled with pride and love and joy. Peter realizes it was stupid to ever doubt his dad’s love for him, and he lets the fierce warmth settle against his bones, treasuring the comfort of it.

“You get _one_ free pass,” Tony relents.

Peter hears the _thank you_ loud and clear.

And, because he can, he piles one more lettuce onto his dad’s plate.

* * *

He also wonders if that would earn him a free pass about his newfound spider powers, but Peter thinks he should wait a few more months.

After all, he shouldn’t give his Dad a heart attack so soon after he’s just fixed his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr as starklysteve :)


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